


when actions aren't loud enough

by Kavi Leighanna (kleighanna)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, Romance, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2655848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleighanna/pseuds/Kavi%20Leighanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that she doesn't feel it, but every time she wants to say the words they get caught in her throat. </p><p>(OR The Five Times Hotch Says 'I Love You' and the First Time Emily Says it Back)</p>
            </blockquote>





	when actions aren't loud enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MeadowUndertown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeadowUndertown/gifts).



1.

It’s not like she doesn’t know it, if she’s honest.

He hasn’t made a real secret of it in the off time that is their private lives. She thinks a lot of that is mainly the knowledge that things can disappear in a blink. One wrong move, one wrong decision and everything can shatter. He’s kind of taken that lesson to heart in ways she knows none of them really anticipated.

And she can see the words on the tip of his tongue. She can see the way they climb his throat some days, when she looks up from winning another tickle fight with Jack; when she groans at the sound of the alarm and rolls into him; when they’ve had a hell of a case and they’re sitting side by side on the plane.

It’s a matter of time.

So when they’re cuddled on the couch, his fingertips stroking up and down her arm she’s not surprised when he cups her chin and meets her eyes with that solemn intensity that drew her to him in the first place.

“I love you.”

Her mouth opens but no sound comes out. She can feel the way her eyes widen, the way she starts to panic, and he just leans in to press his lips softly to hers.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispers against her mouth.

She kisses him again, harder, and hopes he doesn’t realize she can’t say it back.

 

2.

It’s not that she doesn’t love him back. It’s not that her feelings aren’t as intense if not more so. And really, it’s not that she’s a coward. She knows she’s had moments, knows that they’ve passed her by and knows that she’s not going to have many more despite his seemingly endless patience.

He will break. They all break when they realize that the words will never come.

She’d have to have extra hands and feet to count the number of men who have given up on her. She’d need two hands for the ones who have done their best to stick it out. She’d need less than one to count the number of people who have actually heard the words as they’re meant. She tosses them around, at JJ and Garcia, at Reid and Morgan and even Rossi on occasion, but never him.

(And maybe that should have been their first clue, the first idea that there was something solid and real between them. She can’t throw words at him that don’t mean anything, can’t joke or pretend or do anything other than mean every syllable that comes out of her mouth.)

He doesn’t have that problem. It’s been a veritable floodgate since his original expression. He says it when they wake up, when they go to bed. He makes sure to say it before they go into a fire fight and every time he has to send her out to interrogate a suspect. It’s not something she’d expected, to be honest, but it’s not entirely a surprise either.

And every time he says it she can just look at him. If they’re alone, she makes sure to press an emotion-filled kiss to his mouth. If they’re not, she squeezes his hand, offers him a smile she hopes explains even a portion of what she feels.

She hates that it’s not good enough.

 

3.

She knows she has to say it.

She’s bleeding out in a damn ambulance and she knows this is her last opportunity. She’s not going to make it, she’s really not. She knows the wound’s too jagged, that she’s too tired, that there’s a big part of her that would rather be dead than let Ian Doyle hunt down her family, and all of it is crashing around her.

And she tries. She does.

She opens her mouth to say it, forces her eyes to stay open. Instead, her voice chokes and she cannot gather enough breath even with her determination. She is damn stubborn though and she sucks in air and tries again.

“Shh,” he says, sliding his fingers through her hair. “Sweetheart, shh.”

But she doesn’t want to ‘shh’. She has things to say, things he needs to know before she passes out or passes on. She lets her eyes close for a moment, holds on, pushes the pain back and then opens them again.

His hand cups her cheek. “It’s okay.”

It’s not. It’s really not. He needs to know-

“Emily.”

His eyes are filling and she wishes she could reach for him.

“I know,” he says, his voice cracking. “Sweetheart, I know. And when you wake up, you can tell me okay? But not like this. Please, not like this.”

She feels the tears flood her eyes, feels the way one leaks down her cheek. “Aaron,” she manages to croak.

“I know.”

Then her world goes black.

 

4.

She’d promised herself that if she got the chance to come back to Washington, to Quantico, to her family that she’d say it. She’d say it all the time, to each of them because life is too damn short and Ian Doyle’s taught her that in ways she had not wanted. But with him she just… can’t.

It’s driving her insane.

He’s the one person she needs to tell, the one who deserves the words and she cannot make her voice work. It leaves her cranky and withdrawn and he shouldn’t be as understanding as he is.

Because she’s done with being unable to say it.

She’s done with the idea that she could never put those three words in a sentence when they really matter.

And yet time and time again, she chokes.

When he’s made her dinner; when they’re wandering the Washington streets; when he slides her hand down her back on a bad day and wraps her up in his arms after the hard cases; it all collides in her heart along with the heavy guilt and knowledge that the words won’t come. And he’s been so infinitely understanding she wants to strangle him.

Why hasn’t he pushed? Why doesn’t he want to hear them when he can say them so easily? How is he not wondering what the hell is wrong with her? Because he’s not telling her she’s emotionally stunted, not trying to analyze his way into her head and she honestly doesn’t know what to do and how to handle it.

“Because you’ll say it when you’re ready,” he tells her solemnly. “It’s not a question of ‘if’, Emily. It’s ‘when’. I can wait.”

But he has been, forever and too long.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says when she voices her concern. “I don’t need the words to know you’re in this. You show me every day. And that’s enough.”

She can’t help wondering how long that’ll last.

 

5.

It takes her a long time to realize it’s just too much.

What she feels, how she feels, the intensity and the strength… It’s not that she can’t say the words, it’s that they’re not enough.

There are not words for the way she feels about him. There’s no way, no combination of English that will explain to him what he means to her and how she feels. She doesn’t know how to tell him about the way it wells up in her chest and makes it difficult to speak. She doesn’t know how to explain the way she feels when she wakes up next to him, when he kisses her good night, when he sneaks into the shower.

‘I love you’ just isn’t enough.

‘I love you’ doesn’t tell him that he holds the entirety of her heart. ‘I love you’ doesn’t help him see that he could utterly and completely destroy her. ‘I love you’ doesn’t tell him how it feels to have someone to rely on, someone to come home to, someone who lets her be when she needs it and sits quietly with her when she just can’t be alone.

It doesn’t change the fact that she wants to say it. He deserves those words and despite his endless patience, she knows he’s waiting for them.

She hates that she’s not strong enough to say them.

 

+1.

Their relationship is, of course, not perfect and even he hits the end of his rope. Storming out isn’t really his style but after they’ve had a go at each other, said things they are both so painfully aware they don’t actually mean and he tells her softly that he’s going to take a walk, she finds herself collapsing to the living room floor.

She’d known this day was coming.

She has a good cry in the middle of the floor, lets the abandonment wash over her for a moment before she forces herself to get her act together. Her first stop is, of course, their bedroom. She pulls out her drawers and her suitcase from their closet trying very hard not to notice the way her hands shake as she tucks her things inside.

She’s almost done her drawers when the door opens again.

“Emily?”

She doesn’t answer, doesn’t have to. He finds her a moment later, his brows knitting together as he takes her in.

“What are you doing?”

“Saving us both the trouble.”

Because this fight was bad. It’s not their first, of course, not even the first since she’d come back, unsettled and nervous. But the things she’d said to him, the way he’d walked out… She knows the writing’s on the wall this time.

“The trouble of what?”

“Deciding who goes.”

“Neither of us is going anywhere.”

Her head snaps up, finds irritation and annoyance all over his face. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. It sticks up in the way that always makes her smile, but she can’t this time. She straightens, holds herself tall and straight. She will take his words and walk away because God knows she’s done enough damage.

“I love you,” he tells her. “Why would I want you to leave?”

“Because everyone does, eventually,” she finally blurts. It’s the one secret she’s kept, the one thing she’s never put a voice to. He knows, of course, because he has a way about him, but she’s never actually said the words.

“I’m too difficult, I work too hard, I’m too emotionally closed off, the list goes on.”

“The list is stupid.”

That makes her blink, makes her stop.

“You are complicated, yes. You are often stubborn to the point of foolhardiness. You are careful with your emotions and very protective of your heart, but you are not emotionally closed off.”

He’s so passionate about it, his words vibrating in her chest and making her heart race. He steps towards her, reaches for her, and she flinches back instinctively. She’d said terrible things, how can he even want to touch her?

“But you are compassionate and loving. You work day in and day out to show the people you love that you need them in your life and you never let any one of them feel like less that you believe them to be.”

She sniffles.

“Sweetheart, I don’t love you because things are easy. I love you because they’re not. Because you make it worth fighting for and working at. Because I think you are amazing, Emily, no matter what you’ve been through and what you will go through. I want to be here, beside you, for every step of that process, even when I want to absolutely throttle you.”

She chokes on a laugh and lets him pull her into his arms.

“I love you because of you. Period.”

And she looks up at him through her tears, finds him staring down at her with that terrifying adoration. She leans up and presses his mouth to his, soft where she thinks it could have been desperate.

When they pull away, breathing heavily, she barely registers the way her mouth opens and the words that come tumbling out.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
